Angels Off Broadway
by Niente Zero
Summary: It's nearly Christmas, snow's coming down, and Ray and Fraser are called in to investigate incidents plaguing the production of a musical. Who is behind the sabotage? What could be better than Cats? What other surprises await our boys?
1. The Cast Assembles

**Disclaimer: Things I don't own include handsome Mounties, dashing police detectives, _Cats, the Musical_, anything else Andrew Lloyd Webber ever touched, the phenomenal poetry of T. S. Eliot, and Godzilla. Things I do own include a rotten sense of humor and a whole lot of sugary treats that someone sent for Christmas. Run away. Or else, read and review. You pick!**

**Chapter 1 - The Cast Assembles**

There were angels, men and women in flowing, shimmery robes, broad graceful wings sweeping down from their shoulders in drifts of feathers, crisp pin feathers, soft down underneath. He thought he saw his mother among them, and his grandparents. Of course Dad wasn't there, he thought, he hadn't crossed over yet. He felt a warm sense of wonder, marveling at the way the light glittered off everything in the scene before him. Then he felt a warm, wet tongue on his face.

"Augh, Diefenbaker, down!" Benton Fraser sat up in bed with a jerk. No wonder he had been dreaming of pure, glittering white scenes of peace. The early morning was lit with a pearly light filtered through snow clouds as soft snow turned the grim streets of his Chicago neighborhood into something clean and fresh and silent. He pushed off his excitable wolf and the blankets and walked to the window to enjoy the peaceful vista while it was still untouched by dirt and traffic fumes. It looked like they'd be having a white Christmas if the snow didn't let up.

Fraser dressed quickly, fed Diefenbaker, and waited for his partner, Detective Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago Police to arrive. The day before Ray had indicated that his lieutenant had a sticky case on hand for them. Fraser had just finished the correct arrangement of his lanyard over his dress uniform and placed his hat on his head at the appropriate angle when he heard the distinct horn of his partner's Buick below. Normally Ray would come upstairs, but parking during snowstorms could be perilous and result in undesirable tickets or even worse, towing. Ray wouldn't put his classic car at risk that way.

"Morning, Ray." Benton said cheerfully, as he slid into the car, shaking snow off his boots before he put his feet on Ray's pristine floor mat. "What's the case that Lieutenant Welsh put you on?"

Ray gave him a not-entirely-pleased glance. "Well, Benny, we're trooping through all this snow to see an angel." It was clear that he was less delighted by the wintry wonderland that surrounded them than Benton was.

Benton did a double take. "We're going to see whom?" he said, unsure that he had hear Ray correctly.

"An angel. You know, guy invests his own capital in a theatrical show to get it up and running. I guess there's this musical production having some problems with sabotage. I don't know why Welsh stuck me with it."

Benton shook his head slightly, glad that Ray was too busy being annoyed by the weather and the case at hand to notice his reaction. Of course, an angel investor, what else could Ray have possibly meant? He was suddenly interested; he hadn't much experience of theatrical productions outside the small and valiant Gilbert and Sullivan efforts put on by the local light opera society in Tuktoyaktuk.

Ray parked his Riviera as close to the curb as he could given the already dramatic drifts of snow that were building, outside a lovingly restored brick Victorian era theatre. By the time the two had forged through the powdery precipitation to the office door of the building, they were white from head to toe. Ray was grumbling.

"This weather isn't fit for a dog."

"It snows every winter in Chicago, Ray." Benton said. It was the first big storm of the season, coming late in the year as it was. There was less than a week left until Christmas.

"And every year my knees start to ache more in the cold, and I gotta shovel the car out every time I park on the street, and the rest of the morons in this city forget how to drive."

Benton wisely kept his mouth shut about some of his partner's more hair-raising vehicular maneuvers. He held open the small side door to the building to let Ray go in out of the snow. They found themselves in a corridor with an office to one side, high ceilinged with plaster decorations around the light fixture, the entire room elegant but somewhat run down. Leaning against the desk was a tall man with sharp, dark eyes, dressed in an expensive grey suit. He stood when they entered the room.

"Detective Vecchio, I presume?" He had an educated, soft voice, with a distinct mid-western accent and a certain musical warmth. His sharp eyes were sizing up Ray Vecchio as he shook hands with the detective.

"That's me. And you're Michael Gainsborough." Ray said. "The Lieutenant said you were having some problems."

The tall man nodded, his eyes shifting to Fraser's unusually-uniformed figure, and the broad brimmed hat he was now brushing snow off. "That's right. And to what do we owe the pleasure of a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?" he asked, his tone not unfriendly.

"This is Constable Benton Fraser." Ray said. "He came to Chicago in pursuit of his father's killers. He's since stayed on as liaison with the Chicago PD."

Fraser shook the hand that Gainsborough held out to him, and gave the man a warm smile.

"So tell me what's going on." Ray said, shifting impatiently from one foot to another. He was not convinced of the prestige or importance of this case, but he'd annoyed Welsh rather thoroughly the previous week, so he was stuck with it.

"Well," Gainsborough started, leaning back against the desk, his pose one of self-assurance, "Let me start by telling you that this show could be really big news for Chicago. This is a small theater, but as an investor, I have every faith that we'll be taking it to Broadway eventually. New York! And it will have been born right here. Could be very good for the city."

Ray scratched his head, unimpressed.

The door from the street opened and there was a commotion of stamping feet as people came in from the snow. Gainsborough said, "Ah, this'll be the producer and his secretary, now. They can tell you more about what's going on."

The producer came through the door of the office ahead of his secretary. He was a short man, chubby and soft from lack of exercise, with hair that was balding in a pattern that made him look like a candidate for a monastic order. Benton noticed that he made up for his lack of height with an almost palpable sense of restless energy.

Behind him, his secretary, a pale woman with mousy brown hair and tired features, came into the room more slowly, which wasn't surprising since she appeared to be fully nine months pregnant. Benton quickly stepped aside and pulled one of the guest chairs out for her. She thanked him quietly. Gainsborough was introducing the producer to Ray.

"The name's Roger, Roger Crook." The producer was saying, as he shook Ray's hand, pumping it up and down and squeezing it with his other hand. "Thank god you came!"

Ray rolled his eyes at this. "If someone could please just tell me what's going on?" he said.

"Well, see," Roger began, "I have a big hit on my hands here, and someone is trying to bring me down. First it was itching powder in Rum Tum Tugger's costume."

At this Fraser interrupted him quietly. "Excuse me. You're staging the musical, _Cats_?"

"No sirree." Roger said with a laugh. "We're gonna make _Cats_ look like small potatoes at the box office. I got all the rights sorted out, my baby is going to rock the theater world. Picture it." he gestured wildly. "_Godzilla versus Cats: The Epic Showdown_."

Ray started coughing hard into his sleeve. Fraser merely said, "Ah."

"After the itching powder, my Grizabella found a dead rat on her dressing table. Then I got a note." Roger reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper with letters cut from newsprint saying "Shut it down, or I will." He handed it to Ray, who'd got control of himself. "That's when I called the police. Say, are you going to do something about this?"

Before Ray could launch into a reassuring speech, a figure in dusty black clothes appeared at the office door, out of breath.

"Mr. Crook, there's been an accident." he said. "Joe was just coming out of his dressing room when he slipped on a roller skate. With the snow, we didn't think there was any point calling an ambulance, I'm going to drive him to the hospital right now. I think he broke his ankle."

Roger swore long, loud and colorfully. Fraser pursed his lips together disapprovingly at such language in front of a lady, glancing at the producer's secretary, who appeared unsurprised by the producer's salty turn of phrase.

"What the hell was a roller skate doing there anyway?" Roger said to the stage hand in black. Then to Ray he explained, "Joe is my Godzilla." He swore again.

The stage hand said, "uh, I guess it was left over."

Roger slammed his fist against the desk. "Ah, jeez, what a mess. We were workshopping _Miss Saigon on the Starlight Express_ before I came up with the _Cats_ idea, but I couldn't figure out how to do the helicopter airlift off the roller-skating train."

Once again Ray seemed to be suffering from some respiratory distress.

Fraser said, "That sounds, ah. Interesting."

"Yeah, but they shoulda had those skates packed away. Someone is out to get me. And now I got no Godzilla." Roger hunched down, his shoulders showing a certain distress. "Where'm I going to find a guy Joe's size to fit the costume who can sing?"

He finally seemed to really notice Fraser. "Say, you're about the right height." he said. "You wouldn't happen to be able to carry a tune, would you?" His eyes glittered speculatively.

Fraser stood with his mouth open, eyes wide with terror. He wanted to shake his head, but he could in fact sing.

Ray watched with amusement. Like George Washington, his partner was just no damn good at telling a lie. He saw Benton nod reluctantly.

"Great stuff!" Roger said. "And you can tap dance, of course?"

Ray cleared his throat and said, "Sorry to disappoint you, but the Mountie has no rhythm."

Gainsborough, the angel investor, stood up from where he was leaning against the desk. Benton thought he noticed some tension around his eyes, under the cool exterior.

"Well, Roger." he said, "You seem to have the situation under control. I have to get out of here, I have a meeting across town that I'll be lucky to make in this weather. Call me when you find out what's going on."

He turned to Ray and Benton and shook their hands once more. "Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. I hope you can get to the bottom of this."

Ray smirked. "Yes, I'm sure we wouldn't want anything to happen to such an important artistic endeavor, Mr. Gainsborough."

Fraser walked out into the corridor to hold the street door open for Gainsborough. He looked outside and came back into the office, saying, "It appears that the snow is falling much more heavily now. As critical as this investigation is, I believe it might be wise if Ms, uh." he realized now that Crook had not bothered to introduce his secretary, "If the young lady were to return home before the streets become altogether unpassable."

Crook turned and looked at him, displeased. "Oh, Marian doesn't need coddling, why women in other countries give birth standing up in the rice fields and get right back to work. A bit of snow won't do her any harm."

What the secretary, evidently named Marian, thought of this was unclear. Her face was studiedly neutral.

"Well, let's go look at our crime scene." Ray said. As he and Crook left the room, Crook complaining vociferously about his lack of Godzilla, Marian stood up and said, "Thanks, but he's convinced I don't need to be on leave, and I really need to keep the job." in an undertone to Benton. "My husband John is active duty Army," she added, "Which doesn't pay as much as one might think, plus the delightful perk of him being stationed overseas right now." She gave a deeply felt, rueful sigh, and then smiled. "Roger's right though. I mean, we have so much more than most people in the world do, I shouldn't complain."

Fraser waited for her to pass through the door into the corridor before exiting the office. "If the snow gets any worse, I'll try to talk to Mr. Crook again." he said. He didn't know what else to say about her situation.

"Good luck with that." Marian said. They had turned from the narrow corridor into a wider hallway leading backstage. Ray and Crook were a couple of paces ahead.

"So you're familiar with _Cats_?" Marian asked conversationally.

Fraser nodded. "Yes, although admittedly more with the original set of poems than the stage production." He smiled. "I have a rather limited experience of the stage."

Marian laughed. "Well, most people around here think T.S. Eliot wrote the show for Lloyd Webber, so it's refreshing to meet someone who reads."

"I've often thought it would be amusing to see some of Eliot's other work interpreted for the musical comedy stage." Fraser said.

Ray chimed in with "Yeah, a real laugh a minute." He wasn't really familiar with the early twentieth century poet's work, but he was reasonably sure it wasn't particularly suited to light entertainment.

Marian warmed to the theme with a giggle. "Oh, yes. _Four Quartets_, or the _Wasteland_. Although, for my money, there's no sweeter poetic expression of melancholy than the Love song of _J. Alfred Prufrock_."

Crook stopped and turned to her. "Eliot wrote a love song?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Say, we oughta use the lyrics for the show. How'd it go?"

Fraser's eyes softened, giving his face a dreamy cast as he quoted some lines from the poem.

"Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

Crook's expression changed from delight at the prospect of a crowd-pleasing romantic number to bafflement and then disgust. "What is that about? Crustaceans? Let me tell you, the American public doesn't want crustaceans! A musical about crabs, the idea! No, felines! Felines are where it's at. The theater-going public is just nuts for the felines." He turned on his heel again, marching backstage.

Marian looked across at Fraser, her lips twitching uncontrollably. His eyes were full of laughter and they shared a silent moment of hilarity at the expense of the producer.

Backstage was quiet, at least until they arrived.

"Where _is_ everyone? Bob, where the hell did my actors go?" Crook roared. Bob, who turned out to be the stage manager, a ginger haired middle aged man with an unmemorable face and a clipboard, appeared.

"Sorry, Mr. Crook. After Joe broke his ankle, I cancelled rehearsal. Besides, the snow's getting pretty bad. Selene's the only one still here, I think."

Roger Crook let loose his trademark string of profanities. "Well just how are the police gonna question people if they're not here?" he said, finally.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Well, sir, what we'll do is examine the crime scene, and get some background information from you and anyone who's still here, and we can come back after the blizzard blows over, tomorrow or the next day, to interview everyone else."

"Not good enough! Damn it, what kind of a show am I running? Where are my people?!" Crook yelled until he had worked off his burst of temper, then apologized. "Sorry, sorry. It's just this show is real important, and I won't let some jerk ruin it all." He rubbed his balding head.

Ray said, "Yeah, well, let's keep this professional. Why don't you show me where the first incident, the, what was it, flea powder in the cat suit? Where that took place."

"Let me introduce you to Selene." Marian said to Fraser. She needed a break from her overbearing boss. "Maybe she can help answer some questions."

"That would be fine." he said with a small smile. He was also becoming tired of the ranting producer, and he couldn't shake the worry about the impending blizzard. He didn't want to make Marian uncomfortable by fussing over her, but the way she stood and occasionally rubbed her back suggested that to Fraser that she shouldn't spend much longer on her feet. "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?"

The green room where the actors spent time between their scenes turned out to be small but comfortable. Marian had introduced Fraser to Selene, who was playing the role of Grizabella, a diva among cats. Selene was an inch taller than Fraser, between her natural height and five inch heels on knee high boots. She had striking eyes and her skin was a rich shade of coffee. Fraser deduced quickly from her accent that she was from Louisiana.

Sitting in lumpy orange chairs, Marian and Selene answered Fraser's questions about the investigation, though not without additional commentary from Selene. Marian was alert but clearly enjoying the chance to rest and not have to be the center of the conversation.

"So, you found the dead rat on your dressing table, when?" Fraser addressed himself to Selene.

"Two days ago. In the morning. It gave me a hell of a shock." she said, with a self-deprecating laugh. "You shoulda heard me scream. I'm not a leading lady for nothing."

Marian nodded and said, "It was quite loud. It must have been ten o'clock."

Fraser went through the details of who had been around when the rat was found, taking notes, and asked the women about any other odd incidents. Then he moved on to their general impressions of the show.

"Darlin', I've wanted to be in_Cats_ since I first saw it." Selene said, again laughing. "You could have knocked me down with a feather if you told me I'd be playing across from a giant reptile. And lawd, sugar, the pyrotechnics!" she said.

"Pyrotechnics?" Fraser repeated.

"Oh yeah, honey." Selene said. "Act one is pretty straight up _Cats_. Then at the end, Godzilla appears and the cats have to band together to save their town. Act two, Godzilla knocks over the power lines, setting the whole city on fire. We got lots of fire. If there's one thing that Crook knows, it's how to make a show look a lot more exciting than it is. Heck, he makes a lot of things seem more exciting than they are. I can't believe I-" she stopped herself and shook her head. "Well, never mind that, you all don't need my dirty laundry."

Fraser's eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a clue there. Had she been intimate with the irritating producer?

He didn't have time to find a tactful approach for this line of questioning, because Marian let out a sudden gasp. Fraser turned to her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Mmm. I, yes, I'm all right, but..." Marian clutched her hand to her stomach. "I think my water just broke!"

Fraser was just processing this moderately worrying information when the lights went out. He suddenly understood all too well Marian's comment about Selene's scream - as the room went pitch dark, the diva let out an ear-shattering howl.

**Author's Note: This is just a little fluffy something to say thank you to everyone who's made my year so much fun by writing and reading and generally sharing the Due South love. And my present to the boys is that they get minimal angst and no beatings. Aren't I kind?**


	2. House Lights Down

**Disclaimer: Things I don't own include handsome Mounties, dashing police detectives, Cats, the Musical, anything else Andrew Lloyd Webber ever touched, the phenomenal poetry of T. S. Eliot, and Godzilla. Things I do own include a rotten sense of humor and a whole lot of sugary treats that someone sent for Christmas. Run away. Or else, read and review. You pick!**

**Chapter 2- House Lights Down**

Benton swiftly pulled a matchbook from his pocket and lit a match. Marian and Selene were safely accounted for.

"There's no reason to panic." Benton said. "If you wouldn't mind waiting here, I'll find out what's going on. Are there any flashlights, or candles in the theater?"

Marian spoke up as he lit a second match, the first one having burned down to his fingertips. "Yes, in the supply cupboard in the office. Can you find your way back?"

Benton gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure I can."

He ran into Ray on the way back, quite literally, in the dark.

"Oh, Benny, good." Ray said, as he recovered his balance from slamming into Benton. "Crook tells me there are flashlights in the office."

"I was given to understand that, yes. Where is Crook now?" Benton asked. Aside from Marian and Selene, Crook and Bob the stage manager were the only people in the theater, to his knowledge.

"I left him and the stage manager down by Godzilla's dressing room." Ray replied, as they entered the office. Although the blinds were open, the snow was falling heavily enough to make it quite dim.

"But they were both with you-"

"When the lights went out? Yeah, Benny, they were. And if the ladies were with you, oh and by the way, no fair running off with the ladies and sticking me with Roger, then that means our saboteur isn't one of them, but is still in the building." Ray concluded. Benton was rifling through a cupboard.

"Aha!" he said, pulling out a flashlight. He handed it to Ray, who turned it on.

"Any more in there?" Ray asked. He shone the light into the cupboard. The shelf had dust marks suggesting that a couple more flashlights had been there, but they were there no longer. Ray groaned.

"Great." he said. "Well, we'll have to round everyone up in the one place I guess."

"We have another problem." Benton said. "Marian's going into labor."

Ray gulped. That was _way_ out of his league.

"I would suggest that we gather everyone up and instruct them to leave for the day. Then we can drive Marian to the hospital. She probably has hours of labor ahead of her, but in this snow storm, it would be better to be safe than sorry."

"All right. Sounds like a plan." Ray replied. They found Crook and Bob still outside the dressing room of the actor who played Godzilla.

"Damn, with all this scuffling around in the dark, my physical evidence is probably gone." Ray said to Benton. "There was some dust I really wanted you to take a look at."

Bob and Roger Crook looked on with astonishment as Benton took the flashlight from Ray and got down on the floor, running his fingertip across the floor board and sniffing it experimentally.

"What, no licking?" Ray said sarcastically to his partner.

"I don't need to taste it, Ray." Benton said, apparently not registering the sarcasm, "I can smell it just fine. There's definitely sawdust, a soft wood. Pine." He sniffed again. "Or, no. Douglas Fir, I think."

Bob cleared his throat. "We use quite a bit of lumber in the set shop. I can't think how there'd be sawdust here though."

Roger glared at Ray. "He can't really tell what species it is, can he?" he demanded.

"Oh, yeah. He can probably tell you what side of the hill it grew on." Ray replied with a grin.

Benton stood up. "We'd better not leave Marian and Selene waiting in the dark any more." he said. "There'll be time to examine the scene later."

Ray led the way back with the flashlight. Crook was talking constantly the whole way, complaining about how someone was trying to ruin him. It was probably a good thing it was dark enough that the irritated looks on the faces of the other three men were hidden.

"Oh, thank goodness you're back!" Selene said dramatically as the flash-lit contingent arrived.

"Why, has something happened?" Benton asked, senses suddenly pricking with alertness.

"Oh no, it's just, it's terrible being alone in the dark with who knows who out there trying to get at us!" the actress said melodramatically.

Ray looked at the ceiling. Not that there was anything interesting there, but give him patience with these theater people!

Benton crossed the room to squat beside Marian's chair. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Are there any contractions yet?"

Marian smiled nervously. "Just one, so far. At least I think it was a contraction. I haven't been able to time what's going on since then."

Crook gaped. "My god, woman, what do you want to go and start labor for?" he said. "Can't you see we've got a crisis going on?"

Selene stood up. "Of all the self-involved little-"

Ray cut her off. "People, people. Let's stay focussed. We can't investigate any further today and lord knows you can't rehearse, so I'm going to suggest we all go home and weather the storm and we'll see what we can do tomorrow."

Crook grumbled, but he could hardly argue that there was a more practical approach. The six of them trooped up to the office entrance to the building. Ray opened the door to the outside, and just as quickly slammed it closed as heavy snow started to blow in.

"Okay, folks, we have a problem." he said. "We might as well get comfortable for a while, because no-one's going anywhere in that weather."

Fraser was standing beside Marian, his hand at her elbow. "Is there a room where Marian can lie down?" he asked.

Selene said, "My dressing room has a substantial sofa." Catching a glance of Ray's incredulous face lit by the flashlight she smiled broadly. "What's the point of being a diva if you don't get perks, honey?"

"I'd prefer if we could all stay together." Benton said. "But somebody's going to need to take the flashlight and try to fix the fuse so we can get some decent lighting. The battery won't last forever."

"Right." Ray said, taking charge. "We'll all go to, uh," he gestured at Selene, as he had not been introduced yet "your dressing room. Then Bob here and I will go fix the lights. You all will stay put. Constable Fraser will make sure no one wanders off. Clear?"

There was a general murmur of assent, although in Crook's case it was accompanied by grumbling about, 'say, who did this cop think he was, ordering everyone around?'

Ray held the flashlight while everyone crowded into Selene's dressing room, seeing Marian comfortably situated on the couch. Selene and Crook took the only other chairs. He wasn't surprised to see that Fraser was crouched by Marian talking to her quietly. He was delighted that although she was the one with something approaching a medical emergency, she had stayed calm and reasonable throughout. He imagined those would be very necessary traits for anyone who had to work with Roger Crook. In fact, the question wasn't so much who would want to sabotage Crook's production of Godzilla Vs. Cats, but who on earth wouldn't want to bring the annoying, arrogant man down?

Ray was relieved to be going with the phlegmatic Bob. The stage manager was down-to-earth compared to the larger than life personalities of the diva and the producer, and as for the rest of the situation, well, he didn't know nothing 'bout birthin' no babies, that was for sure. Whereas, Fraser, typically enough, had hands on experience in the matter having, to Ray's knowledge, helped deliver at least one child out in the frozen reaches of the arctic. Yes, Fraser would be fine. Ray was the man to fix a fuse, or at least hold a flashlight while Bob fixed a fuse.

In Selene's dressing room, there was a palpable tension. It wasn't pleasant to be sitting in the dark wondering if the saboteur would strike again. Fraser was asking Marian questions about her pregnancy and doing his best to assure her that the whole thing would work out fine.

"This is your first child?" he asked.

"Yes." Marian said, laughing nervously. "This isn't how I planned the delivery."

"Well, no." Benton said. "But there's probably some time yet. When Ray comes back we can use his phone to alert emergency services to the situation. We will do our best to get you to a hospital."

"But if we can't?" Marian said, courage and worry battling in her voice.

Benton took a deep breath. He had an almost savant ability to muster calm and project it to people who were on the edge of distress. It wasn't exactly tact, because often it came with a dose of truth that needed to be spoken, and it wasn't only charisma, though that was part of it. The biggest factor had to be empathy; he simply put himself into other people's places effortlessly, sharing a fellow-feeling with them that allowed him to directly address whatever it was that was causing fear.

"If we can't, then we'll do what we have to do to make sure you have a safe delivery here." Benton said. He smiled slightly and added, "I'm not your obstetrician, but I'm not entirely inexperienced in assisting with childbirth."

Marian seemed surprised. "You've done this before?" she said.

"Yes. It was in a blizzard, too, like this, only our shelter was more rudimentary, an RCMP outpost in the far North West. The mother walked in to us from her village because there was no hospital close enough and the weather had prevented the usual plane that came with supplies and carried passengers out from arriving. She was very cold and very tired but she held on and delivered a healthy little boy."

Marian was temporarily distracted from the difficulties of her current situation. "You're a long way from home." she observed. "And you've had a fascinating life, apparently."

"It certainly hasn't lacked variety." Benton admitted. He was happy to see that she seemed less frightened, more sure of herself.

For her part, Marian was considering that at least the Mountie was literate, and had a better bedside manner than her obstetrician, who had an alarming habit of missing, being late for, or hurrying away from appointments due to prior golfing engagements. And after all, Fraser did have more experience of childbirth than she did, even if it was only assisting with the delivery.

They both shared a common wish that the snow would lift soon, so that she would not have to give birth backstage in a theater with no medical care.

Bob soon had the lights back on. This was greeted in the dressing room with a small round of cheerful applause. Before Ray and Bob returned, Marian had experienced another contraction. They were still far apart, but as soon as Ray was back, Benton insisted on using his phone to call emergency services and get advice on how to proceed. They were instructed to stay put unless the snow lifted, especially since Marian's contractions were still irregular.

Ray took Benton to one side. "Listen, Benny, if these folks were all accounted for when the lights went out, we have a perp in the building, and he or she could be a danger to them. What do you say we do a bit of poking around while things are quiet? Can we trust them to stay put?"

Benton looked around the room measuringly. "We can certainly trust Bob and Marian to do as we ask. Selene, possibly. Crook, not if he thinks of the slightest reason he might want to leave. But I agree, we should try to find the saboteur before he or she can put anyone at more serious risk."

"Okay, here's what's going to happen." Ray announced, drawing attention from everyone in the room. "Constable Fraser and I are going to look around some more. You all are going to stay put. If you are thinking about wandering off on your own, bear in mind two things. One, we got a saboteur on the loose and he or she may not be too discriminating about who gets hurt, and two, I can arrest you for obstructing justice." He smiled in a self-satisfied way. "Any questions? No? We'll be back as soon as possible."

Benton glanced across at Marian to make sure that she was comfortable being left, and she nodded.

Ray and Benton looked around the theater, searching for things that seemed out of place or wrong. The first sign of oddity was more sawdust, a small trail off to one of the wings of the stage.

"Here, Benny." Ray said, pointing to it. "Wonder where it came from?"

"Or where it leads." Benton said. They followed the little trickle of sawdust until Benton dropped down to the floor, feeling the floorboards carefully.

"Hmm." he said. "This floorboard..."

"Loose?" Ray said, crouching down beside him.

"Yes. Funny. Ray, are you familiar with the story of the Phantom of the Opera?" Benton said.

"Uh... I don't do musicals but isn't it some guy living under the theater?" Ray said.

"Precisely." Benton said, lifting the loose floorboard up. Several others came with it, revealing a trapdoor with a small step-ladder placed under it. The boards were supported by freshly cut pieces of fir, which Ray presumed had been pilfered from the set shop.

"I've still got that flashlight." Ray said, pulling it out of his coat pocket. "You first." He handed the flashlight to Benton, who lowered himself down through the trapdoor, climbing down the step-ladder when his feet reached it. He shone the flashlight around. Rather than a room, he appeared to be in a small tunnel.

"All clear." he said to Ray, moving out of the way of the trapdoor so his partner could follow him down.

"Except for dust!" Ray exclaimed with disgust. "Ugh, my dry cleaning bill is going to be through the roof."

The tunnel extended in two directions from the trapdoor. Benton picked a direction at random and they followed it, finding it to terminate at an opening under the alleyway behind the theater. Benton boosted Ray up and the detective pushed the metal plate off the opening, letting in a drift of snow that fell heavily on both of them. He pulled the plate back across quickly.

"Judging by the rust on the plate," Benton said, brushing snow off himself, blinking flakes off his eyelashes, "this tunnel has been here for a while. It must be a part of the access for getting props in and out of the theater. Someone has just made sure that it's accessible from the stage."

"So anyone could be in the theater and we wouldn't know." Ray said thoughtfully. He too was shaking off snow. "But there aren't any wet footprints right now, so if someone came in it was either before the snow storm or long enough between now and then for the heating in the building to have evaporated the water."

Benton nodded. "Exactly." he said. "Well, at least we know how the saboteur may be moving around."

Ray had a sudden thought. "Damn it, Benny. If the saboteur knows that we're in the building, he could have been watching us come down here. We can't go out the street exit of the tunnel, not with the storm, we'd better hurry and get out of here before he sticks something across the trapdoor." He suddenly shuddered. "I do not want to be stuck in a confined space for who knows how long, with just you for company, no offense."

"None taken." Benton said dryly. "You're right. We should hurry."

They heard footsteps above as they bustled down the narrow corridor, and then a thud. Fraser climbed up onto the step-ladder and gave the trapdoor a push. Nothing happened. He turned to Ray. His look said everything.

"Great." Ray said. "We're stuck down here."

"And everyone else is stuck upstairs without our protection, Ray." Fraser chided. "Besides, we don't know if we're really stuck. It might not be anything especially heavy to shift." He pushed again, putting his shoulders into the action. "Oh." he said, as once again it failed to move.

"Let me." Ray said, taking his coat off and pushing his jacket sleeves up. Fraser stepped off the ladder and gestured, indicating that Ray was more than welcome to try. Ray gave the stubborn trap-door a few shoves before conceding that it was truly weighed down.

"We could follow the tunnel in the other direction and see where it comes out, but it's likely that the person who did this will know to block that exit too. Our best chance is the snow, then." Fraser said. "I'll go around the building to the office door and come back and let you out."

Ray looked at him as if he were mad. "Are you crazy? It's a whiteout out there. You can't see a foot in front of your face. You're not dressed for it. You'll freeze."

Fraser allowed himself something very close to a smirk at Ray's expense. "Ray, you will recall that I grew up in the arctic region? That might not be weather suitable for driving in, but I'll be perfectly fine taking a little stroll."

Ray looked dubious, but he was none too keen on the prospect of staying in the tunnel, especially as the flashlight battery would eventually run out.

"Fine, but be careful out there." he said. It was his turn to boost Fraser up to the exit that led to the street.

"I'll be right back for you." Fraser shouted over the noise of the wind, and Ray gave him a thumbs up sign before pulling the metal cover back across.

By the time Fraser made his way around the building, sticking close to the wall for both shelter and to be sure he didn't wander and get lost, he was covered from head to toe in the heavy snow. He couldn't have been happier. It was almost just like Christmas time back home, only the daylight was far too bright for this time of year, but still. It was cold and beautiful. He took a deep breath of the frigid air, feeling his lungs tingle and constrict, before he forced himself to go back into the theater. He made his way back to the wing where the trapdoor had been constructed, and found that a large box of props had been dragged over it. Shoving the box aside he kneeled down to let Ray out. As he opened the trapdoor, Fraser noticed some strands of fiber clinging to it. He picked them off carefully and put them in his pocket before opening the trapdoor.

"Benny, did you freeze?" Ray said, as he popped up out of the tunnel.

"I'm fine, Ray."

"Unnatural, that's what you are." the detective said. But he was grinning.

"I found this on the edge of the boards." Fraser said, showing Ray the strands of wool that appeared to have been pulled from some expensive suiting fabric. "I think I know who they belong to." He looked around the theater. Whoever was responsible for the sabotage also knew the hiding places in the building.

"Who do you have in mind, Benny?" Ray asked.

"I'll tell you later." Fraser said. He didn't want to be overheard by the person who had tried to trap them in the tunnel under the stage. "Let's go and see how the others are doing."

** Author's Note: The plot thickens! The story has two more chapters, which I hope to have up tomorrow. Festive Seasonality all round!**


	3. Center Stage

**Disclaimer: Things I don't own include handsome Mounties, dashing police detectives, Cats, the Musical, anything else Andrew Lloyd Webber ever touched, the phenomenal poetry of T. S. Eliot, and Godzilla. Things I do own include a rotten sense of humor and a whole lot of sugary treats that someone sent for Christmas. Run away. Or else, read and review. You pick!**

**Chapter 3 - Center Stage**

Ray and Benton shared a sotto voce conversation on the way back to the dressing room, once they were in the corridor where there was nowhere for anyone to hide and overhear them.

"I see what you're saying about the suit material. It's the same color." Ray said. "But I don't get the motivation, that doesn't make sense."

"Perhaps if we asked a few more questions?" Benton suggested. "Would you talk to Bob? He might have some useful insights."

"Sure, Benny. It won't do us much good unless we can catch the guy though."

Benton nodded. "I only hope he's content with the mayhem that he's caused for the moment."

"Don't worry so much, Benny, he hasn't really gone after anyone violently so far. Just prank stuff." Ray said. But he felt nervous, too. It would be better if they could just evacuate the civilians. The situation had the potential to become very nasty if the saboteur felt threatened.

When they got back to the dressing room, Ray looked around and found Selene missing. Marian was in the middle of a contraction and Bob and Roger Crook stood to one side looking aghast. Benton hurried over and knelt beside her.

"Where's Selene?" Ray demanded. "I thought I made myself clear, no one was to wander off on their own."

Crook shrugged and grimaced. "If you wanna argue sense into that damn woman, it's more than I can do. There's a rehearsal space in back of the offices." The theater really was a warren of rooms, "She said she was gonna go blow of some steam. You're welcome to chase her down." He looked stormy, and Ray wondered at that.

"All right, this time, everyone stay put! Or else!" Ray said, as he turned and left the room to find the impetuous star. He found her easily enough by the sound of her voice coming from the rehearsal room, where she was sitting at an upright piano, playing and singing in slow, melancholy tones.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas

It may be your last

Next year we may all be living in the past..."

Ray let her sing to the end of the verse. She had either not noticed him standing in the doorway, or chose to play to her silent but appreciative audience. When she was finished, he walked over to the piano.

"That was pretty." he said. "I don't remember it being so gloomy, though."

Selene laughed. "Oh, dear, no. That's the version that was too sad even for Judy Garland to sing. You're probably used to Frank Sinatra's happy version."

"Ah, the Chairman of the Board." Ray said appreciatively. "You can't beat him. But the sad version really gets you." He had, for the moment, forgotten to be mad at her for leaving the others. Instead he asked conversationally, "So why did you sneak off to sing?"

Selene looked at the tough Chicago cop in front of her. He had a sardonic smirk and a slick dress style, but there was something in his expressive eyes that told her he knew a thing or two about lost love.

"Oh, Detective." she said, sighing melodramatically, "Do you know what it's like to have a broken heart?"

Ray shrugged manfully. He didn't go around admitting, even to himself, that he'd been through the lists of love.

Selene laughed again, softly. "Oh, I'm sure you do. I can see it in your eyes, sugar. Well, I've been crossed in love."

Ray put two and two together and got a round and astonishing four. "Roger Crook?" he demanded.

"That same." Selene replied. "Which I suppose gives me plenty of motive to be behind these juvenile tricks."

Ray shook his head. "You have a bigger motive to want the show to go on. You've got the lead role."

Selene smiled bewitchingly. "Ah, so you understand actors." she said.

"So what happened with you and Crook?" Ray asked.

"Nothing, everything." Selene sighed and played the refrain from the song she'd been singing, slowly, absently. "Sugar, you may have noticed that I have a large personality. Roger, well, he's not a bad man, but he also tends to be rather self-centered. It was just too much ego between us to leave any room to breathe."

"So does Roger have any particular enemies?" Ray asked. He might as well get some police work in while he had her to himself. That she was also very attractive had not escaped his notice, but as much as he loved trouble, he didn't think he could survive the diva.

"No... well, I mean, obviously a lot of people find him... difficult." Selene said, her lips twitching in amusement. "But I wouldn't say enemies. He's in an odd position, he's the artistic visionary, but at the same time he has to play with the money men. And sometimes you can't compromise artistry to mere financial diktats." Her eyes shone as she said this, and Ray thought that he saw why there'd been an attraction between her and Roger in the first place.

"The show's expensive?" he asked bluntly.

"Oh, honey, you don't get giant monsters and explosions for a cut-rate. We've got nothing but the best. Why, the scene at the end where the Cats all band together while Godzilla is rampaging through the streets tearing down buildings cost thousands in set design. But it's all worth it for the magic of the theater."

Ray looked away, knowing that the expression on his face was incredulous. He didn't know much about art, but he was pretty sure that this was out there even for avant garde theater, let alone a mainstream musical.

"We'd better get back to the others." he said, when he had schooled his features to neutrality.

Selene gave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, dear. Well, I suppose we have to, sugar." She smiled again cheekily. "I'd rather stay and give 'em something to talk about."

Ray had the sensation of hot color rising up in his cheeks. This must be what it was like to be Benny, he thought, as she moved in on him.

"Uh. Right. Now. Yeah. Back to the dressing room." He spun on his heel and marched off.

Benton didn't miss the heightened color in Ray's cheeks when he reappeared with Selene behind him. However, he didn't have the time to make a comment. While Ray was gone, looking for Selene, Marian had begun to complain of discomfort from lying on the couch. As a matter of experience, Benton knew that during the hours of labor it could be very helpful for the woman to be up and moving. The dressing room was cramped. So when Ray came in, Benton was ready to move the whole group elsewhere.

"Ray, Marian needs more space to walk around. The best place would be the stage. As we must all stay together, I was waiting for you to find Selene."

Ray looked petrified. He still wasn't ready to handle the implications of Marian being in labor. Neither were Bob or Roger from the looks on their faces.

"Fine, fine, whatever." Ray said. "Uh... is there anything I can do?"

Marian shot him a grateful look. "No," she said. "I just need to walk around."

"Marian is still in early labor." Benton said. "It could last quite some time. Hopefully long enough for the snow to slow down, and for us to move to a hospital."

"It was still snowing heavily when you were outside, though." Marian said. She had noticed that his coat was soaked through when he came back in.

"Well, yes it was." Benton admitted, running his hand through his hair. "But we might as well be optimistic."

They all moved out onto the stage area. Bob pulled out chairs from the props storage area, an array of different periods and styles. Selene sat down next to Ray, and Roger sat as far away from them as possible. Bob formed a neutral zone. Benton stayed with Marian, pacing with her.

Ray leaned over to Selene. "Uh, I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you or anything," he said, blushing again slightly. "I just need to ask Bob some questions."

Selene leaned in with a quick laugh. "Don't worry, honey, I won't take offense."

Roger was glaring at the pair of them. He looked slightly mollified when Ray scootched his chair over closer to Bob's.

Marian tried to stay calm and steady as she paced. It had become increasingly obvious to her that she was going to have a baby in a near-deserted theater, and that wasn't the most pleasant idea. She had more or less resigned herself to giving birth before her husband returned from his overseas assignment, but she had at least hoped to be in a hospital bed with her mother and sister beside her. To take her mind off the upsetting reality, she talked to Benton.

"Have you thought of- do you want to have children?" she asked him, as they paced the stage.

It was a long time before he replied, long enough that Marian was about to apologize for asking such an intrusive question. When he did reply, there was a husky catch to his voice.

"I've thought about it." he said. "I just don't really know how anyone decides that the time is right, that they're ready."

Marian looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't think- well, I didn't have a very stable childhood." Benton gave a half-smile. "I suppose I know that my parents loved me, but... my mother died when I was young and it was very clear that my father wasn't ready to be my only parent. It was, well, it was lonely. I would never wish to bring a child into a family if I couldn't give them..."

Marian saw a hunger in Benton's eyes, a depth of longing from a child who had never been given the security of constant affection.

He stopped, having already exposed more about his innermost feelings than he intended. "I just wonder how you know that you're not going to make the same mistakes your parents made."

Marian laughed. It was not an unkind laugh. She understood him perfectly well.

"You're not alone in wondering those things." she said. Her hand rested on her belly. "I think we all go through that. There's no perfect time. But I think it matters that you understand the ways in which you can mess it up, and want to do better."

Marian gasped as a contraction hit her. She gripped Benton's arm for the half-minute it lasted. The contractions were coming a steady ten minutes apart by Benton's watch.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine, fine." Marian said, when she got her breath back. She rubbed her lower back for a few seconds. "Lots more of this to look forward to."

Marian started to pace again, and after a few moments resumed talking.

"But, as I was saying, Constable, I think you'll make a fine father if you ever do have children." She smiled. "You have your priorities right, as far as I can figure out. Lots of love, that's what they need most. That's what I hope we can give our little one."

Ray found it easy to get Bob talking once he gave the man an opening to vent about the production. They were still discussing the fairly obscene production costs and the risk to investors if the show wasn't a hit, when Roger started grumbling loudly.

"Say, I'm hungry. Doesn't anyone have any food?"

Ray looked annoyed at being interrupted in his discussion with Bob, but it _was_ lunch time and he was hungry too, and since who knew how long they'd be stuck in the theater, it was probably a good idea to see if there was anything around to eat.

"Benny, I'm going to take Bob and see what we can find to eat. You going to be all right here with the others?" he said, standing up.

"Yes, fine. We'll all stay together." Benton said calmly. Roger looked as if he might protest, but the ire on Ray's face and the quiet determination on Benton's made him shut up and sit down, for once.

Benton was keeping an eye and ear out on the periphery of the stage. The presence of the saboteur in the theater was a good reason to be concerned when the group was split up, even for a short time. He was relieved when Ray and Bob came back in ten minutes bearing what they'd found.

From Selene's dressing room they'd brought a jar of caviar, a box of expensive chocolates, and a box of crackers. From a bar fridge in a dressing room shared by some of the dancers in the show, a container of celery and carrot sticks, and a tub of cottage cheese. Joe, who played Godzilla, had apparently an appetite to match the scenery chewing of his character. His dressing room had the biggest bounty, cheese curls and potato chips, a box of beef jerky sticks, a stack of pudding cups in various flavors, and a plastic grocery bag full of granola bars.

Selene graciously, if somewhat icily, deigned to share the caviar and crackers with Roger, who also appropriated one of Joe's bags of potato chips. Bob helped himself to a granola bar and some cheese curls. Ray shrugged and grabbed chips and pudding. Benton had celery, cottage cheese and jerky. In spite of Benton's suggestion that she ought to eat something, Marian protested that she really couldn't, but Benton insisted that she take some bottled water. He was worried that she wasn't getting enough to drink. The scratch meals passed a little more time, but the afternoon seemed to hang heavy ahead of them. Tempers pacified by sugar and fat would wear thin again soon enough. It was Selene who suggested passing the time with a friendly game of poker.

Three more long, slow hours passed. Selene, Roger, Bob and Ray stayed mostly civil over the cards. It was a focus that was distracting from the claustrophobia that hung over them, even on the open space of the stage. Every half hour or so, Ray and Bob would go and check the status of the snow, which had slowed down but was still coming down too heavily to be safe to drive in. Besides, calls to emergency services suggested the roads were impassable due to everyone who had tried to beat the storm home and got stuck in it, moving at a snail's pace bumper to bumper.

Marian's contractions had started coming closer together. During one of the pauses between contractions, Fraser pulled Ray aside from his poker game. "Ray, I don't want to split up and take Marian into the office, but I think it's important to her to talk to her mother. I'm doing my best to be supportive, but of course I can't take the place of family."

Ray nodded and pulled out his phone. He was happy to help - especially if it didn't involve actually dealing with the delivery end of things. "You got it. Everything okay?"

"I think it's going relatively smoothly. I don't have a lot of experience with this either." Fraser said. "And I can't help feeling that we're being watched."

"Makes me nervous knowing our guy is in the theater somewhere." Ray said. "I'll just do a quick sweep around the wings."

"Be careful." Fraser said, taking the phone and returning to Marian's side. He handed her the phone. "I'll get you a chair." he said. When he returned with a chair from the prop room, she was already talking. She sat down tiredly. "No, Mom, I'll be fine. I know. I wish you were too." Tears hung unshed in her eyes. "Yes, I know. But the policemen are taking care of me. No, really. Mom. One of them has delivered a baby. I know Mom."

Marian looked up swiftly at Benton. "Okay, I know this is funny, but my mother wants to talk to you."

Benton smiled. "No, that seems quite reasonable. She's worried about you, of course."

He took the clunky phone and held it to his ear. It was Marian's turn to listen, watching his face, alert but not tense, as her mother put him through the wringer.

"Yes, Ma'am, I promise. No, Ma'am, I know I'm not a doctor. No, Ma'am, I won't let anything happen to your daughter. I promise. I will do everything I can for her. Yes, Ma'am, I know she should be in a hospital. I promise you, we will get her to proper medical care as soon as it's safe. Yes, Ma'am, that's correct, I have done this before. No, Ma'am, I know it's not right that she doesn't have you with her, and I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can."

After several minutes of listening to this, Marian went from on the edge of tears to something very near amusement. Of course she wished she could be safely tucked in a maternity ward with her mother and sister, but in the circumstances she felt lucky to have the scrupulously honorable and decent Mountie who was currently patiently assuaging her mother's fears. She motioned for him to give her the phone - if she didn't intervene, her mother would keep badgering him until the batteries died.

"See, Mom, everything's going to be fine." she said. "I have to go now, I'll make sure to call you again when anything happens." After a little more reassurance she finally ended the phone call.

"Thanks for talking to Mom." she said. "I feel a lot better now. I just have to stay calm and we'll get through this, right?"

"We will get through it." Benton said, putting his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. He gave her another bottle of water and made sure she drank it.

Marian felt another contraction hitting. She grabbed Benton's arm and squeezed. The contractions were lasting longer now, and Benton thought back to his rather rusty understanding of the labor process. He thought she might be going into active labor, at which point the contractions would be significantly more difficult for her to get through. It seemed soon for a first time mother, but as far as he could tell from the medical texts he'd read, the timing was very variable from woman to woman. When the next contraction came only five minutes after the last, he knew for sure.

Meanwhile, at the card table, discussion was heating up. They were betting pennies, and as Roger raised with a smug expression, Bob couldn't hold back from commenting, slightly bitterly, that as usual it wasn't like Roger was risking real money.

Ray was interested.

"You don't have your own money invested in the production?" he asked, casually, but policeman's instinct tripped.

"Of course I do!" Roger exclaimed. "I'd be a mug to miss out! It's going to be huge."

"But not much, sugar." Selene said, her lips twitching maliciously. "You shouldn't leave contracts lying around. You stand to do quite nicely if it is a hit, without a whole lotta risk if we flop."

Roger scowled and stood up, pushing his cards away. "I don't have to listen to junk like this." he said. "Isn't it bad enough someone's trying to shut my baby down?"

"And what would happen if they succeeded?" Ray said. "Is the production insured in some way?"

Selene spoke up. "You got that right, honey. If the show fails to open for any reason then the investors would get a percentage of their funds back. It's only if it opens and doesn't make a profit that everyone is out their bundle." She looked thoughtful as she said it.

"And Bob, you've been kind of loud about the production being risky what with the mounting cost of everything." Ray said. "If you've talked to me about it, who else have you talked to?"

Bob shrugged and looked at the floor. "I dunno. I guess a lot of people. I just didn't want it to go on getting out of control with this prima donna in charge." He gestured at Roger.

"That does lead me to believe I have a good idea who's behind the sabotage." Ray said, standing too. He was projecting very clearly. "That person should know that they will face pretty minor charges if they stop now and turn themselves over to the police."

Roger blanched. "You're not trying to make out it's one of us!" he said, looking at Bob and Selene.

"Nah. I'm just saying." Ray said.

Benton looked up from where he was squatting beside Marian. Movement from above had caught his eye, someone moving around in the scaffolding where the lights for the stage were hung.

"Oh dear, Ray." he said.

Ray followed his gaze upward. There in the shadows above them stood Michael Gainsborough, the investor who stood to lose most if the production opened and flopped, and Ray squinted to make out what appeared to be flares or some kind of explosive charge in his hands.


	4. The Curtain Comes Down

**Disclaimer: Things I don't own include handsome Mounties, dashing police detectives, Cats, the Musical, anything else Andrew Lloyd Webber ever touched, the phenomenal poetry of T. S. Eliot, and Godzilla. Things I do own include a rotten sense of humor and a whole lot of sugary treats that someone sent for Christmas. Run away. Or else, read and review. You pick!**

**Chapter 4 - The Curtain Comes Down**

Fraser had already moved himself between where Gainsborough stood and Marian, as if he could shield her with his body should the man really be about to attack the group. He had his back to Gainsborough and was holding Marian's hand as she gasped her way through another contraction. The last contraction had only been four minutes ago, and the one before that five. Her labor was progressing quickly.

Bob said. "Mike, no!" then turned to Ray. "Those are some of the charges used in the scenes where Godzilla is destroying the city. They're small, but they can still do a lot of damage to a person. I've seen accidents - you don't want anyone near them when they go off."

Ray looked at Fraser. Fraser jerked his head toward Marian as if to say "I have more important things to take care of." Ray sighed. That left him to deal with the irrational investor who was trying to cut his losses by getting the show closed before it had a chance to bomb at the box office. Bomb. Irony. The strongest probability if the financier did try to set off the small stage-effect pyrotechnics was that he'd blow himself up. But that was bad enough, and worse was the risk of injury or fire that would be a danger to the others. Normally Ray would leave the sensitive 'talk-the-guy-around-to-a-reasonable-position' stuff to his partner, and in any other case he'd have been slightly annoyed that Fraser wasn't playing ball, but this was an exceptional situation.

"Mr. Gainsborough, as I said, if you surrender now, you'll be facing really minor charges."

Roger interrupted, full of self-important bafflement. "But, say, I don't understand, if Mike was responsible, why would he call you in?"

Ray smirked sardonically. "I'm sure Mr. Gainsborough thought he was smarter than the police, and calling us in would legitimize his position with the insurance company that rehearsals should be closed down and the whole thing called off."

"That's right, I underestimated you." Michael Gainsborough said. He had a wild gleam in his eye. "But I'll see to it that I get my money back, you irresponsible fool!"

This he addressed to Roger, who looked offended.

"Look, damn it all, the show is going to be a hit. I mean to say, Bob talks down every show I've worked with him on. Damn good stage manager, but he's a pessimist."

Ray added, "And if you were listening to Selene too, well, no offense, but she might have a bit of a grudge."

Selene folded her arms over her chest, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she scolded Ray. "Now don't you go telling tales on me, honey."

She turned to address Mike. "He's right, though. I mean, it's not a certainty that we'll hit the big time, but I don't doubt the show would make your money back. Who doesn't love Cats? Who doesn't love Godzilla? Sugar, if I'd known you were going to get this worked up, I wouldn't have run my mouth about Roger. It was never business, just personal." She looked suitably feline as she said it.

Gainsborough's shoulders slumped. The gleam went out of his eyes. Ray saw a man who was competitive enough to risk anything rather than face a business loss if he could avoid it, who knew now that he'd backed the wrong horse.

"Come on." Ray said. "Give it up. You really haven't done anything that qualifies as more than a misguided prank right now. Come down from there." He hoped the tone of impatience was not completely obvious in his voice.

Not that it mattered after Roger Crook decided to put his oar in with an unhelpful, "I'm going to sue you for all you're worth for what you've put me through." There was a universal wince from the others in the room at his cluelessly self-centered comment to a man who was already unstable and angry.

Michael Gainsborough suddenly looked energized and enraged. "That's it!" he said. "I've had enough of you, Crook. You lead me on with all sorts of fancy bullshit about how your little show is going to run, change everything along the way - it was supposed to be Miss Saigon on the Starlight Express when I signed on to support the project - the budget projections kept going up, you have no respect for me, no respect for me or my money!" He took a lighter from the pocket of his suit. "Fine. I'm going to burn the whole place down. With you in it."

"Now, Mr. Gainsborough." Ray said, stepping forward, "I'm going to have to ask you to set down the explosive charges."

"Ha!" Gainsborough said. Ray could see in his eyes that he wasn't really committed to any rash action yet. He was, after all, a canny businessman, just one tired of being jerked around by one of his partners. Ray wondered if there was something about hanging around in theaters that turned ordinarily reasonable people into total drama queens.

Ray could sympathize with Gainsborough's frustration when Roger Crook gloated. "Oh, like you've got the balls to do that, Mike. Stop making an ass of yourself and come down here and let the police deal with you."

Ray turned to Crook, scowling and pointing. "You. You just keep your mouth shut." When he turned back, Gainsborough had lit the fuse on one of the small explosive charges and was lobbing it over the edge of the scaffolding, more or less in Crook's direction. Before Ray could move, Fraser was diving toward its trajectory, pulling his winter coat off. They all watched as the Mountie caught the lit explosive in his coat and rolled away from them, thrusting the coat off the edge of the stage. He covered his head with his arms as the charge went off with a small blast, thankfully hurting no-one.

Gainsborough's throw had put him off balance. As the explosive went over, he went with it, grabbing hold of the scaffolding and dangling from it. Ray and Bob ran back stage and up into the lighting rig, hauling Gainsborough up bodily. Ray turned him around and slapped cuffs on him.

Down on the stage, Benton got to his feet and looked down mournfully at his perfectly good uniform coat, ruined. But at least none of the people present were hurt. Selene rushed over beside him, looking down at it. "Well, sugar," she said, "thank the lord for your reflexes, it was just like being at a ball game."

Marian let out a cry of pain. Benton turned to Selene. "I think it's time to move Marian back into the privacy of your dressing room." he said, the calm of his face broken by a slight crease of worry across his forehead. "The contractions are coming rather close together and I want her comfortable and private when she goes from active labor to transitional labor."

Selene looked baffled. "I have no idea what you're talking about, honey," she said, "no way I'm throwing away my figure having a baby, but I'll take your word for it."

They each took one of Marian's arms and helped her back to Selene's dressing room. Benton laid the couch cushions out on the floor and helped her down onto her back.

Roger bustled into the room. "Well now, what's going on?" he demanded. Benton looked up, astonished that the man could be so self-absorbed and clueless. "Unless I'm much mistaken, sir, Marian is going to deliver her baby here, within the next few hours."

By the time another contraction had passed, Marian gripping tightly to Selene on one side and Benton on the other side, and breathing hard through gritted teeth, Ray was done reading Gainsborough his rights and locking him in the office, and came looking for them.

Ray put his head around the door, his eyes glancing over Marian and then finding a safe place to look on the opposite wall. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, please, Ray. If you could find lots of towels, hot water, and an ice pack, that would be most helpful."

Ray said "I get the towels and hot water, but why an ice pack?"

Benton gestured with his free hand to where Roger had slid down the wall in a faint at the news that Marian would be delivering her baby in his theater. "I think he might have a headache when he wakes up." Benton said tersely.

Ray returned with the required supplies and hustled Roger off to wait with him and Bob. Benton washed his hands and had Selene wash hers, and spread the towels out. Childbirth was a messy business. Selene looked put off by the entire process, but the Mountie was brisk and no-nonsense, seeking most of all to reassure the poor woman who was stuck with only them to help her baby into the world.

In one of the brief breaks between the now intense contractions, Benton brushed Marian's hair off her sweaty face and asked "How are you doing?"

She attempted a smile. "This is rotten. I'm fine. I hate men." she spat out. She hadn't let go of Selene's hand since the last contraction, and the singer winced as the next one hit and Marian squeezed.

"Shouldn't she be pushing?" Selene asked.

"Not yet." Benton said. "She's doing very well." He didn't want the expectant mother worrying about what she should be doing, what she had to do now was concentrate on getting through an involuntarily natural childbirth.

"How can I help, sugar?" Selene asked.

"Coach her to breathe rhythmically." Benton answered.

"Oh, now, breathing exercises I can do." Selene beamed. Through the next contraction and the ones following it, she lead Marian in a selection of vocal exercises that would have done a soprano at the Metropolitan Opera proud. This was interspersed with the sort of language that one might have heard from a stevedore.

Marian tried to apologize between contractions. "I'm sorry... it just hurts so much."

"There's no need to apologize." Benton said soothingly. "You're doing fine." Although he didn't tend to use such strong language, he didn't begrudge it at all in the situation. And it was certainly very creative, calling down vengeance on her husband and anyone else even remotely responsible for getting her into the situation.

Ray paced outside the dressing room, for all the world like an expectant father. He wasn't used to situations in which he just couldn't help his partner at all. This was out of his league and he had to trust that Benton would be okay, in there with the life of the mother and child in his hands. Facing down hardened criminals? That was daily routine. Shepherding an understandably terrified woman through an experience that, though natural, was most usually these days handled in a fully prepared medical facility? Now, that was something Ray wasn't sure he could do. But Benny, he'd done it before, Ray thought, that was something. On a makeshift bed in a theater? It was hardly the worst place. It was no arctic hut, nor was it a bed of hay. Somehow he believed it would all come out fine.

A couple more hours passed, although inside the dressing room it seemed like much, much longer. Marian was becoming frustrated waiting for her body to be ready to push. She refused to let Benton out of her sight, so he had Selene running to bring her water, and damp cloths to wipe the sweat off her face and neck and help make her more comfortable. The steady calm in Benton's eyes was the one thing keeping Marian from panicking. He couldn't do much for her in this stage but encourage her, and be there for her - like Selene, he was getting a nice bruise on his wrist from her surprisingly strong grip.

The steady calm was largely a facade. From all that Marian had told Benton, he had no reason to think that there would be complications with the birth. But all the same, there were many things that could go wrong, and he was acutely aware of the responsibility that he'd shouldered. If things did begin to look tricky, the best help he'd be able to get was advice over the phone. Benton took deep breaths of his own.

Once the transition into the second stage of labor happened, things started happening faster. Marian was relieved to be able to push, not just breathe through the contractions. The hour that passed seemed like no time at all to Benton before the crown of the baby's head appeared.

"Nearly there." he said encouragingly to Marian. Selene was still sitting up by Marian's side, carefully avoiding looking down past the artfully draped towels over Marian's midsection.

"All right, take it easy now." Benton said as the baby's head started to emerge. "Push nice and slowly Marian."

The exhausted woman glared down at him, but complied. As the baby's head appeared, Benton washed his hands again and gently wiped the nose and mouth to help clear the airways.

"That's good." he said. "Keep pushing with the contractions."

It didn't take many more contractions for Marian's baby to enter fully into the outside world. Benton cradled her gently, drying her with one towel and wrapping her in another. He lifted her up to Marian's chest, draping his uniform jacket over mother and daughter, to give Marian some privacy and the baby some warmth as she nursed for the first time.

Marian and Selene both looked shell-shocked, but with a tender joy. Benton himself felt an incredible sense of love and happiness looking at the tiny pink fingers and toes, perfect, and the sleepy eyes that opened onto the world for the first time.

"Congratulations." he said to Marian. She still had to push out the placenta, and outside of the sterility of the hospital, there was no point cutting the cord yet, but the hardest work was over.

"Can I have another cushion?" Marian asked. "I want to sit up."

Selene and Benton arranged her more comfortably leaning against the couch, baby still grasped firmly to her chest.

"She's beautiful." Selene said. "Oh my lord, Marian, she's just beautiful."

Marian looked dazed. "Yes, she is. Selene, could you tell the others that everything went okay?"

Selene nodded and pushed herself to her feet, ready to make a grand birth announcement.

"Would you sit beside me?" Marian said to Benton. He was hovering, waiting to see if she needed anything or if he could do anything else to help. He sat down at her request, leaning against the couch too. He wasn't nearly as tired as she was, of course, but it had still been quite an effort.

"I wanted to say thank you, Ben." She had picked that as the shortest syllable to scream at him earlier during the labor when she was frustrated and in pain.

Benton ducked his head. "Really, it was ... anyone would have done the same thing."

Marian snorted. "Uh, right. You know that's not true. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"You would have managed. You're strong, Marian."

"I'm going to need to be. It's going to be tough doing this without my husband John, until he comes home." she said. "But really. Ben, I want to let you know how much your help meant, to me, to my whole family." she looked down at the baby with an expression of the most tender maternal care. "I want you to tell me, what was your mother's name?"

Benton took a deep breath. He hadn't been expecting that question. "It was Caroline." he finally said, with a slight catch in his voice.

Marian ran her hand over the fine drift of hair atop her daughter's tiny head. "John and I had already decided that if we had a boy, we were going to name him Franklin, after my father, but, well, we hadn't agreed on a girl's name. I would love to name her Caroline, if you wouldn't mind?"

She watched the emotions that passed across his face, a long-held grief and the deepest love. Finally he nodded, biting his lip, and said in a voice that vibrated with all the unspoken things held in a few simple words, "I'd be greatly honored if you did."

"I promise you, Ben," Marian said, "Caroline will be surrounded by light and love and warmth. I promise."

Benton smiled, his eyes lighting up. "I know she will." He was inwardly delighted that his mother's name would be carried on in a family so obviously full of the kind of outward affection he'd missed out on after his mother's death.

The sweet moment was soon interrupted. Ray knocked on the door and cleared his throat. Marian said, "It's all right, you can come in."

Ray said "I brought my phone, thought you might want to call your mom."

Roger followed him into the room with a bundle of fabric. "I was looking through the costume storage, don't want you and the baby catching cold, do we?" He laid down a cloak of purple velvet over her, something worn by a Lady MacBeth or Goneril in productions past. Bob was the final visitor, with the pudding that Marian had refused earlier. "I thought you ought to eat now. You're going to need your strength."

Selene slipped into the room. She might not want children herself but she couldn't help but be affected by the scene in front of her. She showed her feelings in the most natural way to her, lifting her voice to sing, "Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night, guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night..."

Marian looked up with grateful tears in her eyes as the sweet lullaby continued. There might have been a snowstorm raging outside, a raging businessman locked in the producer's office, and a delivery on a wing and a prayer, but she felt like there could have been no-one more fortunate than her. She was surrounded by angels, an angel half in uniform, his shirt sleeves rolled up and jacket wrapped around her babe, a tough guy angel in Armani, a diva singing her baby's first lullaby.

Ray turned to Fraser, speaking quietly so as not to interrupt the pretty song. "I thought it was going to be a waste of time coming here on this small-potatoes case, but I guess it was really worth it." His blase words didn't disguise that he, too, was moved by the sheer force of love in the room.

Benton nodded, weary but elated by the feeling of having helped bring this new life into the world.

The snow cleared very, very early the next morning, and an ambulance came to take mother and baby to the nearest hospital to cut the cord and make sure that Caroline was thriving. As Ray and Benton stood outside seeing the ambulance off before they took Gainsborough to the station for processing, Benton looked around at the white, crisp scene under the bright stars. He still couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and joy from his dream of angels from what was now yesterday morning. He smiled up at the sky. "Mom, where ever you are, I love you. Merry Christmas."

** Author's Note: There now. That's the story that wanted to get itself told for Christmas, and I hope you enjoyed it. I wish everyone happy holidays and a joyous New Year ahead. The shortest, darkest day is passed for those of us in the Northern hemisphere, and the light is coming back. May you all be safe and with the ones you love during these holidays. I'm off to bake cookies, having depleted all the sugary treats during the writing of this story!  
**


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